Perpetual Abandon
by genuinely maverick
Summary: Yato struggles with immortality and inevitability.


He's been alive for a long time. He'll probably be alive for quite a while more.

But he's come to realize that alive is a relative term when you're a god. Alive to humans means breathing and beating hearts. Alive to him means that he can still see the sunset in the evening and drink Kofuku's tea and go on horrible jobs with Yukine.

Alive means that he can be near Hiyori, see her, speak to her, thank the universe for bringing her into being.

So he's alive, for the time being.

* * *

She doesn't doubt him. Never. Hiyori trusts him with everything, even with herself. But for every thought she's brushed away in her blind faith, Yato has had a hundred more that he's considered with debilitating concern.

He can't trust himself the way Hiyori does. He knows what he's done. Can still feel the blood and the steel and the susurrus power that comes with watching the life flicker and fade in someone's eyes. He's learned, from himself and from others, that godship does not mean justice. They owe nothing to kindness or truth, and Hiyori's trust is borne of ignorance. Yato wishes and wishes that she remain blithe and pure even in the face of his chaos. But not without it.

He wishes and wishes he weren't so greedy, that he could leave her to life and humanity and beautiful, blissful ignorance. But godship does not mean justice, and Yato is a selfish man.

* * *

They sit around the table at Kofuku's place. Another battle gone wrong has left them limping and exhausted. Yato watches Hiyori out of the corner of his eye as she glances at the door. She wants to go home. Of course she does. She only came back with them to make sure everyone was settled in and healing. Her kindness rest like a lump of lead in his throat. He tries to swallow down the feeling.

Daikoku and Kofuku come from the kitchen with tea and sets it down before sitting. "So, Hiyo, have you been thinking about colleges?" Kofuku wonders.

Hiyori glances away sheepishly, turning her tea cup in her hands. "Well, I've been kind of busy lately..."

Yato feels the guilt rise and boil in him. Because he has all the time in the world for crazy hijinks, and she does not. Hiyori should be studying and preparing for college and doing all the normal high school senior things. Not helping wayward gods with their ridiculous issues.

"But you know what you want to study, right?" Kofuku asks, sipping her tea.

Hiyori stares at her for a moment, taken aback by the question. She thought she did. She thought she was going to study medicine and take over her father's hospital and marry a nice man and make babies that would follow in her footsteps. That's what she wanted. But she's sitting at a table of gods and weapons and all her plans seem irrelevant.

She must have taken too long to respond because Kofuku's brow creases in concern. Yato stands abruptly, "I'll walk you home, Hiyori." He makes for the door.

She follows after him a moment later.

* * *

He won't say he likes her. Not to her, anyway. Not yet. He'll wait until she says it first, if she ever does. He won't pull her any further down the rabbit hole until she makes the leap herself.

No matter how good she smells or if her smile makes his stomach do little flips.

* * *

More and more they find themselves in easy silence rather than conversation when they're alone together. Yukine is off somewhere and they sit in Hiyori's room, him lounging on her bed. She tries and fails to focus on her notes. She pays a glance to Yato, staring at the ceiling with an odd kind of intensity, lost within himself. His eyes glow in the dim lighting, heavy with history. He's lived through more than she can imagine. She keeps watching him, feeling a million miles away, even in the little space of her bedroom.

He catches her eye and gives her a grin, stupid and bright and she hums a little to herself, quashing the nasty feeling of distance between them. He's so close, right next to her. She could climb onto the bed with him and curl up around him if she wanted, just to prove to herself that he is here with her, real and solid. But she won't.

* * *

He gets scared that she'll forget. The one person he wants to remember. The only one that matters. He curls over his little shrine, holds it close to his chest and hears her promise over and over in his head. Hiyori was a good girl. Hiyori kept promises.

But she'd forgotten once before so he crawls through her window in the middle of the night, sits on the end of her bed until she wakes and startles, holding a hand over her racing heart when she realizes it's just Yato.

He climbs over to her, wraps her in a hug and feels her tense in his arms before relaxing again. He grips her tighter, "Don't forget me, Hiyori," he breathes, burying his face in her hair.

She rubs his back in comforting strokes, "I won't, I promised, remember."

She murmurs to him, makes a hundred more promises in the dark, as they lay wrapped around each other, says it over and over again, until the words stop making sense and he thinks she doesn't know what she's saying anymore. Her eyes slip closed. Her breathing relaxes. She says she loves him, her voice slurred by fatigue, and his heart jumps. He wonders if it's true. He tells himself he'll have to wait a little longer to find out because she's fallen asleep but really he's afraid to find out. He's always been so selfish.

* * *

It's the wise thing to do. His years have given him at least the small bit of common sense it takes to know that this is _wrong_ , that they are _wrong_.

He sees it without trying sometimes, the quivering silver string of their bond, and his hands flex at his side as if Yukine were in his grip.

And he'd still have Yukine and Kofuku and Kazuma (and Bishamon, on good days) even if Hiyori were to forget. And if he were to fade away and die, forgotten by the human world, at least he'd go surrounded by good company.

But he doesn't love them the same way he loves Hiyori, and that's the thought that makes him shake the vulnerable bond from his vision like he'd never even considered it and continue like nothing could ever go wrong.

* * *

She says it again, lucid and awake this time. She doesn't say love, but she says _feelings stronger than friendship_ , cheeks cherry blossom pink and dark eyes determined. And that's good enough for him.

He can't stop smiling for the rest of the day.

* * *

The first time they kiss it's night and it feels like the entire world is asleep except for them. Tension like radio static hangs in the air between them and Hiyori is so close so close so close to him. His nose brushes hers as she leans in and he can smell the mint toothpaste she used and feel the warmth emanating from her skin.

"Hiyori," he begins to speak but the only other word he can think of is _yes_.

And then he can't think of anything at all because her lips are pressed against his, unsure and inexperienced but so soft and so right. He swallows her hesitation, presses closer, further, eggs her on with desperate pressure and teasing teeth. But then she's jerking away, gasping for air that he doesn't need and he is reminded all over again that she is human and love is a dangerous thing.

* * *

She doesn't talk about the future anymore, not with him, at least. She doesn't mention getting her body fixed. And he doesn't bring it up. It's selfishness, he's well aware, but he'd like to pretend for just a little while longer.

* * *

Tenjin tells him again, warns him, threatens him.

"This can't end well, Yato," he says, "It never does."

Yato pretends not to hear, but the words shake something inside him.

* * *

It's easy when they're touching and his mind is blissfully empty save for the feel of her lips on his and the way her nails drag down his skin. When she moans, the word _perfect_ rolls through him for a moment, but his vocabulary escapes him and he can't remember the word _death_ or _consequence_ or _forever_. He is filled with only her and her hands and her skin and the way she breathes his name and how much he loves her.

And for just a little while, thats all that matters.

* * *

Her chord is nearly ripped from her body and she winces at the pain while Yato winces at the possibility and everything she could have lost. The fight is over and the spirit goes down and his decision is made.

He does it without hesitating, without stopping to look at her, without saying goodbye. He couldn't go through with it if he had to say goodbye.

It's over in a heartbeat, a breath and Yukine shakes in his grip, racked with the realisation of what has been done. Yato is not the only one who fears being forgotten.

He falls to his knees, the weight of everything she's forgotten collapsing on top of him and he waits to fade away, useless, nameless. But he's still there, solid and real, biting back tears as Hiyori gazes at him in bewilderment and confusion and he knows he is alive still. But alive is a relative term.

* * *

An: I love this stupid show, but I also love angst. Thank you so much for reading! Reviews are love!


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